


I Feel Safe With You

by compos_dementis



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Norman Bates and Cody Brennan kissed. Written for a prompt on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel Safe With You

i.

Norman's holding a paint roller in his hand; it's become tacky and dry with use, so he returns to the paint bucket in the middle of the stage to get more. They're going to be painting palm trees soon, but right now they need the background of sky, so he goes to dip it in the bucket of blue paint, and Cody comes too, to get the green next to it. Her eyes meet his and she's smiling, mischievously -- he takes a second to smile back as though mirroring her.

With her own paintbrush, significantly smaller than the roller he's been using, she dips it in the green and then leans in to swipe the bristles across his nose. He flinches back with a sound of protest and she laughs; when she leans in again, he tries to duck away, thinking she's going to mark him once more.

Instead, she tucks her free hand into his hair and pulls him in for a brief kiss. It's over almost before it begins.

"It suits you," she says, then takes her brush and walks away. Norman's heart is pounding.

ii. 

She finds him up in his room at the house. Alarm bells ring in his head, because there's no way in hell she's supposed to be here; his mother's going to kill him. She already doesn't like it when he gets rides from Cody, let alone having her in his bedroom. Norman had been organizing his books, but now he stands in surprise, looking at her like she's just grown a second head.

"What?"

"You aren't supposed to be here. My mom--"

"Is out running errands," Cody assures him, then slings his backpack from her shoulder to land with a thud onto his bed. "You left this at the treehouse. Figured you'd probably want it back."

Dylan had just let her in, then, without questioning it. Norman doesn't know whether to be upset or to thank him later, but for now, he and Cody are both standing uncomfortably in Norman's bedroom. Well, Norman is, anyway; Cody seems to look comfortable no matter where she is. She does it effortlessly, and Norman would do anything for that sort of confidence.

"So," she says, taking a few steps further in. "I've never actually been in here before. It's a nice place. Your mom's got good taste."

He knows that. As a kid, she'd always gone on about how she wanted something more retro, more traditional, and now they've got it. It suits them far better than their little matchbox of a house they'd had in Arizona.

Norman shrugs a shoulder. "Yeah, I guess she does."

Cody's lips quirk into a small smile. "You know," and she's stepping closer to him, her hands moving toward the waistband of his jeans, "your brother said your mom won't be home for another few hours."

One of her hands reaches up to drape over his shoulder as she kisses him. It's lingering and sweet, but he feels a kick of arousal, too, and has to pull back.

"I-- Um-- Not here, okay?" Not in his room, not in this house. But Cody doesn't seem too disappointed by the rejection.

"No problem. I get it." She kisses him again before she turns to go. "Tell your mom I said hi."

It's a joke. He knows it's a joke. But it still makes him worry all the same.

iii.

He's suspended somehow, outside of himself. His limbs aren't real. Everything remains at a distance, oddly far away, seen only through a pane of glass, like watching a movie with the volume turned low. Through the odd hum of silence (ears packed with cotton), he hears someone speaking. Turns his head, barely. He sees his reflection in her eyes and doesn't recognize the person there. Brown-haired and bloody-nosed, his eyes seeming flat.

Who is that?

"--Norman?"

That's his name. He can't answer her. Everything feels heavy and slow; the girl beside him is holding his arm, gently trying to lead him. He walks. One foot. The other foot. It's easy.

"Norman, can you hear me?"

Her voice is warped. It unnerves him. He tries to imagine another in its place, soft and comforting. _I'm right here, Norman. Everything's going to be okay._

There are hands on either side of his face now, and he's sitting down. Careful hands. They stroke his sweat-damp hair from his face, and the girl attached to them is still looking at him. Her mouth moves. The sound is too far away to understand.

_Everything's going to be just fine. I'm going to take good care of you, I promise._

Mother's hands. Mother's voice. 

The girl leans in and kisses his mouth, softly. 

He can almost hear her crying.

iv.

Days at the beach are a lot nicer when they aren't there to honor someone's fake suicide. There's no bonfire and not too many people, just the two of them in their swim suits (Cody's in her bra; does she own a swim suit?), and he's thinking of how cold the water is against his skin, even in the middle of summer. Cody splashes him.

They chase each other for a bit in the water. Norman's legs are longer, and it gives him a slight advantage. She still catches up to him. When they're too tired to continue, they make their way back to shore and sit on the pier, and she holds up a bottle of beer (stolen from her dad), and Norman drinks from it after she does, thinking that it's almost as intimate as kissing.

A droplet of water drips from her short hair and trails down her neck like it's caressing her. Norman's eyes follow it; she catches him staring.

They're both soaking wet, and exhausted, and pink, and she's got this sort of dumbstruck look on her face like he hasn't seen before. She's going to break the moment any second; he can feel it, and so he saves it before she can, leaning closer to her, putting his hands gently against her neck to kiss her.

She tastes like her dad's cheap beer, and like cigarette smoke, but he can't bring himself to care.

v.

"Will you text me when you get there, so I can call you?"

The pause that follows is answer enough. Cody looks small, vulnerable; tired. "Norman," and she says his name like she treasures it, "Calling, texting... I know myself. I'm not gonna do that."

She's honest, at least. Too honest. Norman feels his heart sink, heavily. Cody takes his hand and he doesn't pull away from her.

"Isn't it better to just... say goodbye right now? Face to face? When it's still real?"

She kisses him again, for the last time. Norman doesn't say anything because he can't bring himself to. He knows if he tries to speak now, it'll all come pouring out -- how much he trusts her, how what he feels with her is the most visceral thing he's ever felt in his life. So he stays silent, and lets her bury a hand in his hair, lets her kiss him nearly breathless, lets her pull away. 

He finds himself leaning in to follow her, and holds himself still instead.


End file.
